by Sansa Rayne
“Yeah. Better than I deserve.”
“You know what I’d do? Whenever my girlfriend’s pissed, I bring her a bottle of wine. I could make a stop along the way if you want.”
At least some people cared about others. “Thank you, that sounds great.”
He pulled over in front of a liquor store, where I bought two bottles. When I got into the cab I passed one up to him. “For your girlfriend.”
He laughed and drove off, taking me the rest of the way to Elspeth’s. I thanked him when we got there and left a big tip. I already felt a little better, but knew it would be short-lived.
If Elspeth got bent out of shape because I was sleeping with a man so quickly after meeting him, she would probably be furious that he turned out to be a lying creep. But she’d be right. She could kick me out after I apologized. I’d find somewhere else to stay.
I rang the bell at her door but didn’t hear it buzz me back. Instead, after a minute, the door opened. Elspeth pulled me inside and into a hug. My eyes burned, aching from crying so much. Goddammit, Mason. Why’d you have to do this to me?
“I’m an idiot,” I said.
“Maybe, Abbi. But you don’t deserve this.” She squeezed me harder.
“Thanks, Elspeth.”
“Come inside. Is that for us?” she asked, spotting the wine bottle in my hand.
“For you. I hope you like it.”
She took my hand and pulled me down the hall. “Forget unpacking.”
Inside her apartment, moving boxes lay stacked in every corner. Elspeth explained that she’d been too busy to get to all of it; she’d been writing about her time at Good Souls.
“Actually, I was thinking about what I’d write if I ever escaped long before the raid,” she said. “Now I’m just getting it all on paper.”
“Is it hard, putting yourself through that?”
“Sometimes. But I’ve had a lot of support the last few months; people want to help.”
This was true: although I received donations from a collective fund to help the girls from Good Souls, Elspeth had become the recipient of numerous direct contributions. Elspeth had put the money to good use too: aside from all the boxes, her home exuded warmth and welcome. Potted flowers rested on the window sills, and framed cross stitches bearing inspirational messages decorated the walls. Old photo albums lay open on an antique coffee table, family heirlooms provided by her remaining relatives.
Her donations must have amounted to a considerable sum more than mine, judging by the size of her apartment and everything inside. It made sense: she was the one who escaped and brought the police. People wanted to reward her in particular for her bravery.
My face burned in shame as I recalled my initial reaction to the people’s preference: disgust. I’d thought the donors were choosing the girl who had destroyed my home and cost me eternal happiness.
“Hey, are you okay?” said Elspeth.
“How could I have been so wrong?”
Hugging me tightly, she sighed. “We were all manipulated, Abbi. He gave us something wonderful to believe in. I wanted to believe too.”
“Why did you stop?”
I felt her quake; the question had struck a nerve, and I regretted asking, but it was too late.
“I told Brady about Isaac, and he didn’t believe me. Or he pretended not to. Either way, that was it.”
“I’d like to think I’d have done the same,” I said, patting her back.
“I know you would have.”
We held each other a little longer, then Elspeth broke from our embrace, spying the bottle of wine.
She found the boxes marked “KITCHEN” and “FRAGILE.” She reached cautiously into the packing peanuts and pulled out two intact wineglasses. “Only two I own,” she said.
The Riesling tasted sweeter than whatever I tried with Mason at the restaurant; I liked it better. Elspeth smiled too as she sipped.
“All right,” she said, finishing her glass and pouring another. “Let’s hear the apology.”
I sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you back at the farm. That I believed a monster like Brady instead of you. And for being naive, and sleeping with the first man I met, on the night I met him, without knowing anything about him.”
Elspeth set her glass down and hugged me once more. “Thanks, Abbi. I’m sorry for blowing up at you again and again. I could have handled this shit better.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“You know I don’t blame you for sleeping with that guy. I mean, I knew you wanted to have sex, Abbi. We all make mistakes picking the right man sometimes.” She grabbed her laptop from the coffee table and opened it up. She loaded up a profile and showed it to me. “I dated this guy in high school. He was nice to me, but a douchebag to everyone else. I was completely blind to it. I didn’t realize he was a sleaze until he dumped me. You never know sometimes.”
“He’s a moron,” I said. I didn’t want to admit he had a killer smile; I could see the appeal.
“He is a moron! But then what did that make me?”
I grinned and finished my glass. “At least he was just a jerk. I can’t believe I trusted Mason. I feel like he used amazing sex to get what he wanted from me.” I told her about all of his questions: about the other girls, about Brady. I tried to remember what I overheard him saying on the phone, but those moments were still a blur. It brought back memories of the night of the raid, and I’d felt as though once again my world was coming apart.
My tears welled up. Was everything he said a lie? Did he really have a missing sister? Was he a cop? I was so taken in by it all, I took him at his word, even when he’d shown himself to be a liar. Why?
“I don’t know,” Elspeth said when I finished. “But that thing he said at the end, about keeping you far away — what if he meant that? He didn’t know you were listening.”
“So? He was still lying. He tried to convince me to stay, saying he’d tell me everything. I didn’t believe it. Not this time.”
Elspeth shrugged and poured me another glass. “Yeah, he did. Oh god. So that means when you met at the club, he was, like, stalking you.”
I shook my head. “No way. How could he have known I’d be there? The only person who knew I was going out that night was Dr. Davis, and she didn’t know exactly where I was going. And, I trust her. I know that might not mean much, but…”
“No, I’ve met her too. She’s great,” said Elspeth. “All right, so if he wasn’t stalking you, what do you mean to him? What was he going to do with you?”
“I don’t know.” I shivered, thinking about the hours I spent tied up in his dungeon and what sick things he could have done to me. The ideas repulsed me, but also made me wet; I didn’t understand it. What the hell is wrong with me?
Oh, you know, the demons taunted. You’re a depraved whore. You always were. You’re ours now, but now you’re not afraid to show it.
I didn’t believe them. They weren’t real. Crazy cult mumbo jumbo.
“Do you think I should go to the police?”
She shook her head. “What would they do? Has he done anything they could charge him with?”
“Maybe? I dunno. I could ask Dr. Davis on Wednesday.”
Elspeth nodded. “Yes, do that. But what will you do until then?”
“I’ll head home. I’ll keep the door locked, but honestly… I’m not really afraid he’d try to hurt me. He could have stopped me from leaving his place. He didn’t. He had me…”
It occurred to me I still hadn’t told Elspeth everything.
“He had me tied up. I was helpless, at his mercy. I don’t know what he wanted to do that he couldn’t have already done.”
Elspeth’s jaw dropped in amused shock. “Geez, Abbi. If I had known you were so kinky, that would have explained a lot. Is that why you couldn’t help smiling when Brady threatened to punish you?”
“I was smiling?”
“Don’t ever play poker, Abbi.”
—
&n
bsp; Elspeth insisted I spend the night, which I did. After we finished the Riesling we worked on unpacking her apartment, during which time I saw how many things she owned that I realized I could use: Tupperware containers, a cheese grater and a chef’s knife. Bookshelves, radio alarm clock and a baseball bat. Refrigerator magnets, a printer and a can of pepper spray. I wrote all of it down.
The next morning I left and rode the train home. Paranoia gripped me, turning everyone around me into a potential threat. Every man taller than me was Mason and anyone who rode the train for more than two stops was following me. I told myself to calm down and stop being ridiculous, but it didn’t help. I must have seemed jumpy, as people gave me a wide berth. Eventually I got home, and locked the door behind me. Since my apartment lacked a lot of furniture, I opted to jam my kitchen table against the door. I could eat standing up at the counter.
I didn’t want to spend the entire day waiting for Mason to try and bust down my door, so I grabbed my laptop and opened up the blank page that was supposed to be my college essay. Unfortunately, I hadn’t gained any new insight or wisdom on how to write it. All I’d learned lately was how hard it was to trust anyone.
So that’s what I wrote about.
To the director of admissions,
If you recognized my name on the application, don’t disregard it. I’m Abigail Lamb, and I lived at the Good Souls farm, a member of an insane cult, for six years. In that time I could have gotten a degree, maybe two. I can’t take back that mistake, but I can learn from it.
I wound up at that farm because I trusted the wrong man. Since I got out, I’ve once again trusted the wrong man. I’m terrible at knowing who to trust. I don’t know if a college education will help, but I think a major in psychology might be a place to start.
After several months of therapy, I’ve learned how misled I was about so much. I think with the right education, I might be able to help others like me someday…
Did I really want to be a therapist? Maybe. I wasn’t sure. But it sounded good for the essay, and for once I had something written down that I didn’t want to erase.
I kept working, and soon I’d finished the piece. While trying to wrap up the conclusion with a smart last line, I jumped out of my chair when I heard a knock at the door.
What the fuck?
How come I didn’t hear the buzzer? Was it one of my neighbors? What if it was Mason?
“Who is it?” I shouted, setting down my laptop and pulling a dinner knife from the drawer in the kitchen.
“I have flowers and candy for Abbi Lamb,” said a voice from outside.
“How did you get in?” I said, inching toward the door.
“Somebody was coming out. Sorry, I should have used the thing. If you want I could leave these here, miss. You don’t gotta sign for them. Okay?”
“Sure, thanks.” My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear the footsteps of the deliveryman receding. I pulled the kitchen table out of the way and looked through the peephole: nobody was in the hall. I ran to the window and saw a man in a navy blue uniform hop into the passenger seat of a delivery van, which was parked in a loading zone. After a minute it drove away.
I checked the hall one last time before opening the door. I still had the knife in my hand, so I held it out, ready to jab and stab if I had to. The hall was indeed empty, and at the foot of the door I found a vase of flowers and a gold-foiled box of chocolates. In my mind I had expected to see a bouquet of red roses, but the vase held a combination of fresh, white tulips and violet hyacinth, fragrant and beautiful.
Mason would have known I didn’t own any vases of my own to put the flowers in, so I wasn’t surprised when I found a letter from him attached to the box of chocolates. A thick, heavy business card fell out of the letter; I picked it up and set it aside.
Abigail,
I don’t expect you to forgive me this time. I should have told you everything when I had the chance. I did what I did because I couldn’t let go of my past. I changed my mind last night about what matters more to me — the past, or the future. I hope maybe you’ll give me one last chance, but I’ll understand if you don’t.
Enclosed you’ll find a card with the number of my former partner, Frank Navarro. Please keep it with you. If you ever have a situation where you need help, he will do whatever he can.
On the card I saw the detective’s name, department, number and e-mail. I shoved it into my purse, though I expected it to find its way to the bottom and stay there.
Abigail, when I met you I never expected to fall for you. I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I think there’s something there. If you do too, call me someday.
Sincerely,
Mason
When I finished the letter, and the deep baritone of his voice faded out, I opened the cabinet under the kitchen sink and tossed the flowers, candy and letter into the trash.
“Abbi, why did you throw them out?”
Dr. Davis wore a sharp gray blazer and skirt; her hair hung down around her shoulders, instead of in a ponytail, and her office smelled of cleaning chemicals. Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt like it was for me, as if to say, You listen to me, Abigail. This is important.
Unraveling everything that happened felt like solving a tangle of Christmas tree lights; it was all so twisted and warped, and knowing where to begin was impossible. I started with my night with Elspeth and making peace with one another, this time, I hoped, for good. Thankfully, the question of why I was visiting her in the first place led me to explain everything, from Mason and Kaya, to the phone call he made, to the note he sent me.
I considered her question. Disposing of his flowers and all was impulsive, I admitted, but for once I’d made a snap judgment call that I felt was right. The demons taunted me as I lay in bed that night, thinking of the gifts moldering in the bin.
Why throw away his gifts? Have you turned your back on earthly pleasures? Or will you not settle but for the most sinful of them all? I tossed and turned most of the night; when the sun rose I woke, but I hadn’t slept for long, or very well.
Yet, when the question was posed to me, I still believed I made the right decision. “I didn’t want gifts,” I said. “Does he think flowers and candy will make me forgive him?”
Dr. Davis shook her head, frowning. “Of course not. It’s just a nice gesture.”
“It’s an empty gesture,” I snarled.
“No, he was asking your forgiveness, Abigail. I doubt he thinks he can buy it, but getting flowers is what you do in these situations. Would you have wanted him at your door to ask in person?”
“No, I guess not. Okay, suppose you’re right: what will he do next? What happens if I don’t respond?”
Then he’ll find another whore, the demons laughed. I swallowed the acid rising in my throat and coughed. I reached for the glass of water Dr. Davis always had waiting for me on the coffee table.
“If he’s a good person, he’ll accept your decision and not pursue you,” she said. “If not, you may have to give him a clearer message to stay away from you.”
I grinned. “Like a face full of pepper spray?”
Dr. Davis smiled too. “Or an order of protection.”
“Whichever’s easier.” I took another sip of water, then saw the doctor was waiting for me to finish. “What is it?” I asked.
“Abigail, I think you need to call him. Not because you want to accept his apology, or to pursue your relationship. I think you need to find out what it is he was going to keep you away from. I worry that with a man like him, with all that has happened, that it could be very serious.”
I nodded; she wasn’t wrong.
She continued, “It never sat well with me that you happened to meet him at that club. Even if it does meet both of your sexual interests. Maybe I’m projecting my own suspicion onto something innocent and coincidental, but I can’t shake the feeling that your meeting wasn’t an accident.”
Yes, it was fate: your sick desires led you into
the arms of a deceiver, and he claimed your soul to keep.
“I can’t shut them down,” I said, staring down at my feet.
“What?”
“The demons. They won’t let me forget what I did.”
She leaned forward and looked into my eyes. “No, Abigail. There are no demons. You’re not hearing voices. It’s just your conscience, coupled with the overly-ingrained doctrine from Good Souls.”
Was that supposed to make me feel better? At least if it was the demons I could blame them, instead of myself. “Brady told me to remain pure. I didn’t, and look what happened.”
“Abigail, you don’t honestly believe the two are related, do you?”
“I don’t know! Maybe! You don’t get it, do you?” I rose to my feet and balled my fists.
Dr. Davis sat still, watching me. “Please explain, Abigail.”
It pissed me off that she could be so calm when I was ready to smash something. “The way I see it, I lived more or less contentedly on a farm for six years. I didn’t have a lot to worry about: all I had to do was stay pure, and soon I would go to heaven. I had a reason to be hopeful. I had a leader who cared about me.”
I expected she wanted to interrupt me and argue that everything I said was utter nonsense — that Brady had some kind of twisted motive we still didn’t understand but couldn’t have been anything good; that some of the girls were being abused by the men there; that Brady had run because he was a criminal — but she didn’t.
“Ever since the raid, I’ve had nothing but misery and uncertainty. There’s no heaven to strive for, no leader to guide me. I’m going to have to go to school, where I’ll be an outcast — a freak. I tried to find companionship, but the first man I met was a liar and maybe a psycho. And the city is hot, and disgusting, and always loud. I miss the farm, Dr. Davis. I miss having certainty. I know that you’re probably going to say that it was all an illusion, but I don’t really know that for sure.”
She waited a beat to make sure I was finished, then said, “Abigail, do you miss having faith? Do you want to believe in something? If it’s what you need, there’s nothing wrong with seeking meaning through spirituality.”
